


the trailways ramble

by earl_grey93



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, The Terror Bingo 2020, ish, just a little drabble i wanted to get out of my system, pony express au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earl_grey93/pseuds/earl_grey93
Summary: Wanted: Young, skinny, wiry fellows not over eighteen. Must be expert riders, willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred.For Terror Bingo, squareThomas Hartnell.
Relationships: Thomas Hartnell/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	the trailways ramble

**Author's Note:**

> I'M JUST TRYING TO REMEMBER HOW TO WRITE oh my god. I wanted this to be longer and like a real proper au but this is what I ended up with so ya know sometimes you just gotta get the words out and move on. I do be loving these DUMB boys tho xoxoxo 
> 
> hms brune was tom's first posting so i thought it a fitting name for his horse lol

There, in the distance, glittering in the night, dim salvation. It had been a gamble to push this far, and as the last light bled away from the sky, Tom had to trust Brune’s eyes to lead them home. He pats the horse’s frothy neck, murmuring platitudes. Clucking his tongue, he nudges her forward, keeping her at an easy amble, knowing the station was only just over a mile away now. The moon was at half peak and half covered by clouds, throwing the craggy landscape into uneasy relief. Mountains loomed up on either side of them, but Brune confidently picks her way through the rocky valley despite both their exhaustions. They should have stopped for the night at the last depot, despite its lack of facilities. He should have switched out mounts, at the very least; but he had grown attached to the chestnut lady over the last many miles. And he had his own reasons for wanting to make it to the next station, beyond setting carrier records or the promise of an actual bed.

(Maybe it had something to do with the bed.)

A dog barks as they approach the large wooden house that makes up the La Bonte Pony Express Station. It’s bigger than the last few he had ridden through, with additional structures for bedding. Of course, a large stable abuts the house and he hears the nervous nickers of a few horses as he and Brune trot up. The mutt who had alerted at their presence lopes towards them, grumbling. Tom lowers himself down from his mount, leaning against her for a moment when his road-weary knees wobble a bit.

“Yes, you’re a very fierce beast,” Tom says, crouching down and holding out his hand for the dog to sniff. It does, suspiciously, until it recognizes his scent and then wags its tail ferociously, licking the wilderness from his hands. He rubs its ears and is rewarded with a happy, doggy groan. 

The door to the house flies open. Brune starts a little behind Tom, swiveling her ears to face down the newcomer. The lantern that is set outside of the door to light the road for wayward travelers poorly illuminates the face that floats out of the dark, but Tom knows the broad slope of the man’s shoulders and the gleam of his auburn hair intimately. 

“Well, well,” the man drawls, leaning across the threshold. “Look who wandered in.” Tom grins and stands up, brushing dust and dog slobber on his thighs. “’m surprised you didn’t get lost,” the man says, eliciting a snort from Tom. 

“I’d be shit out of luck if  _ you’d _ had to come look for me,” Tom says, and Solomon Tozer, station steward, snaps a quick laugh and leaps off the vestibule, grabbing the front of Tom’s shirt and dragging him forward. 

“I would have taken the mail and left your sorry ass out there,” Solly smirks, and the thrill that shoots through Tom’s body is so heady that he forgets to be careful, lets Solly kiss him. He starts to laugh into Solly’s mouth but it turns into a breathy gasp halfway through, which Solly chases hungrily. Tom’s hand settles on his chest; Solly’s grip slides down to his hips and Tom’s head swims. 

“Missed you,” Solly says, smiling against his lips. “Untack your horse and come inside.” 

“I’ve just finished riding eighty miles, you do it,” Tom says, giving him an amiable shove; Sol laughs and grabs his hand, brushing another kiss over his knuckles. Tom’s blush bleeds into his hairline. “Or do they only keep you around for the view?”

“Ay, well, make yourself at home then,” Solomon says, rolling his eyes. He brushes Tom’s cheek one last time and goes to untie Brune. “There’s still some food left on the stove from earlier, help yourself to it.” 

“Who else is in?” Tom asks, leaning in the doorway. It’s warm and inviting with the lingering of wood smoke and Solomon and supper; something other than the crisp cold and smell of the earth. 

“Just you tonight,” Sol says back over his shoulder, flashing a grin. 

“Bring the mail in,” Tom calls back.

“One of us has to do your job,” Solly laughs, and Tom’s stomach pitches and warms and he leans against the doorway to watch him fondly, feeling for a moment under the soft lamp-burn of the twinkling stars that they are the only two people in the world. When Solly returns to him, Tom brings his hand up to his face and gently cups it, brushing his hair back. Solly kisses him again, smiling, and he closes his eyes and forgets everything else. 


End file.
